Katrina’s First Short Cut
This story is true and happened today, Dec. 15, 1999…
…so, I walk into my salon after lunch and standing at the front desk is Katrina, 20 years old, 5′ 9″, an almond-eyed Latina beauty from Miami, thick silky brown hair to the middle of her back, looking for a new life and friends on the other side of the continent. She’s that beautiful combination of worldly naivete, insecurity and knowing sex appeal – in short, highly attractive.
I know her through a friend of mine and met her at one of his parties. For some reason (?), she came to leave a Christmas gift for me, and to see if I could blow-dry her hair before she left to go home for the holidays. I was quite intrigued about her motives, she barely knew me, yet brought me a gift… hmmm?
Now Katrina has never been to see me, although I have invited her to partake of my services before, of course since I first met her I’ve had a deep desire to cut her hair and more. I tell her to come back in about an hour, when I have a free hour, and she agrees.
I invite her to my station and she precedes me up the stairs. As she bends over to set down her bag her sweater rides up to reveal her low-riding pants and her thong panties clinging to her gorgeous round bottom. After sitting in my chair she tells me how she would like her hair blown dry before she leaves for the East. I comb through her luscious locks, assessing the potential style opportunities and wondering to myself how available she is to my suggestions.
Now, I know by now (27 years as a hairstylist) when I have the girl in my grasp, and this one is ripe for the picking. There is an instinct about this thing, you know in your gut, but you’re not sure intellectually…
…You must ask the question.
I tell her that I would like her to model for me, and in exchange I will cut her hair for free. She thinks that’s a wonderful idea, and says whenever I would like is fine. I ask her if she would like a haircut now, and she asks how I would like to cut it. I take the plunge and describe a close crop, “like Winona Ryder’s”.
She wants to see some pictures, which I show her, to her shock… she has never had short hair, she is nervous and excited, confused and intrigued.
She picks up her cellphone and asks to make a call to a friend. He responds ambiguously to her inquiry about cutting her hair short… next, her ex-boyfriend, no answer… next, her mom, no answer… next, her current boyfriend, no answer…
She turns to me and asks, “How long will it take to grow back?”
I answer, “A year and a half.”
She says, “OK, cut it all off!”
I begin with a high ponytail, chopping and chopping and chopping through.
I hold it aloft and she says, “Cut the rest off now.”
With deft fingers I reduce it down to a close, textured crop of 1/2″ length with a tight tapered nape via scissor-over-comb. She is in shock and awe, rubbing her hand up the back and mussing it in all directions. She asks, “Are you happy with your work?”
I answer, “When I get my hands a little deeper into it, I may be…”
I give her some pointers about the various ways of styling her new cut, and then she gives me her phone number, a kiss and a hug and says, “Thank you”, with a look of “You got your way, you son-of-a-bitch”, swats me on the butt, and wishes me “Happy holidays” as she walks out the door.